Astonishment
by RainThestral93
Summary: Hermione Granger keeps shooting looks at Percy when he's not looking. Percy can feel the weight of her gaze on him and decides to chance it. Who'd have thought, Percy Weasley asking Hermione Granger out to lunch? - Written as part of the "Funny Little Lines" Challenge :


**A/N:  
**Written as part of the "Funny Little Lines" Challenge by Black Rose Blue. My line was "_If at first you do succeed, try not to look too astonished," _and the character saying it is Percy. Hope you enjoy it - read & review! :) - Beth :) xx

* * *

**Astonishment**

The first thing I noticed was that Percy's robes were new. As far as I could remember, the Weasley's never had new robes. But for some reason, Percy was swathed in expensive black attire, from head to toe. It suited him, I realised, with a smirk – he wouldn't look out of place in a morgue. He always was rather impassive, and could easily work with dead people. They'd be impervious to his complete lack of charm, anyway.

I sighed. When I'd got my job at the ministry, last thing I had been expecting was to be assigned to Percy Weasley's department. Percy, my boss. The thought alone was nightmare inducing. He was currently very engaged in writing a letter to somebody extremely important, no doubt, and he'd brag about it later, but for now it meant I could analyse him without being discovered. Heaven forbid he caught me staring; he'd have me on the first floo out of here.

He was tall; a lot taller than the other Weasley boys but not quite as tall as Ron – and he was a lot less padded out than the others, tall, weedy, wiry even. Big rings under his eyes in combination with his sun-deprived porcelain skin only made him look ill – he really did himself no favours; working long hours, not taking any time off for himself. I sighed, for in a way, he reminded himself a lot of myself.

The disturbing truth was Percy Weasley and I were alike in more ways than I cared to admit.

* * *

The weekends were no exception to him working, but he did this from home instead of at the Ministry. He still lived at the Burrow, and what with my parents ignorant to the existence of their daughter, so did I. Molly had farmed the others out for the day – I suspect to give Percy and I the quiet we so desired, to prevent him from moaning. After all, he had a very important job, he delighted in telling us. More than once. Until our heads threatened to fall off.

As he got up to go and make himself another cup of coffee, I took another chance to ogle at him. He wasn't as unattractive as I had initially thought; though thin and peaky, his black sweater clung to clearly defined stomach muscles, and his arms held more of a bulge than I would have perhaps suspected. I lowered my head quickly as he came to sit down. Wouldn't do to have my boss catch me staring him, after all.

* * *

I only stared at her when she wasn't looking – absorbed in a piece of legislature, furrowing her brow like she always does when she concentrates. It's actually rather endearing, and I have to supress a smile. Percy Weasley doesn't smile. Not at work, at least.

But the way she twirls her fingers around her hair really is quite distracting. I wonder if I should inform her of this, but then I realise that this will alert her to the fact that I'm watching. Not in a creepy way, of course, I'm simply fascinated with the brunette. How she is friends with my brother, I'm still struggling to understand, because she's in a league of her own in terms of academics, at least – and I find myself wondering if my OWLs and NEWTs were half as good as hers.

She bites her lip, and I feel an unfamiliar rush of blood to my groin. I raise my eyebrow quizzically. Surely likening Hermione to myself is prompting _those_kinds of feelings, is it?

I decide to chance it. "Hermione would you care to accompany me out to Diagon Alley for a spot of lunch, today?"

She looks up from her tome, seeming nonchalant. One tendril of hair is hanging in her eyes, and it's all I can do not to reach over and push it behind her ear – for that would surely scare her off.

"Sure," she smiles, and then she goes back to reading.

I struggle to keep the look of astonishment off my face – remembering my mantra "_If at first you do not succeed, try not to look too astonished."_Hermione granger had just accepted my invitation to lunch, and I hadn't even had to do any grovelling. I chuckled to myself, allowing a small smile to flit across my features.

* * *

Out of blue Percy asked me to lunch. I didn't really know his motives, or reasons for doing so, but I certainly wasn't complaining. The amicable silence that we'd been working in was growing thick with awkwardness – and I was beginning to think he noticed the sly glances I threw in his direction when I thought he wasn't looking, much in the same way I felt his eyes lingering on me for a little longer than I should have.

The lip bite was a risky move – I wasn't sure it was going to have an effect of not, but I had filed away for future reference that it had got me a lunch date with workaholic Percy Weasley. At the sight of a small smile – a rare event – on the redhead's face, I had to struggle to surpress a smile myself.

The clock hand crawled slowly at an infinitesimal pace, and I found my eyes boring into it, willing it to go faster. A glance across the table told me that Percy was doing the same. I knew that the wizard hadn't written anything down for the better part of half an hour, now, and had resigned his time to staring at the clock.

* * *

Mum bustled into the kitchen, and began setting the table for lunch. I broke the silence, "You won't need to lay for Hermione and me, Mum," I announced briskly. I was tempted to lie, but I don't know what it was that made me not – perhaps the brunette looking expectantly at me from across the table?

"Oh?" My mum asked, and even an amateur could tell she was curious.

"Mhmm," I announced nonchalantly, "We're going out for lunch."

My Mum's eyebrows nearly shot off her forehead, and I saw Hermione struggling to supress a laugh. For the second time this morning, I found the corners of my lips twitching upwards into something ressembling a smirk.

"Goodbye," my tone was curt, and standoffish, and completely without intention.

I reached out my hand to Hermione, and her eyes widened as she gingerly placed her delicate hand in my own. It was warm, soft even, and for some reason I felt my heart race quicken, perhaps even skipping a beat.

Of course, Ronald chose this moment to walk into the kitchen. His eyes were like saucers as he took in the sight of Hermione's hand in mine.

"Bloody hell…" He trailed off. "What's going on?"

Hermione sniffed at my brother's use of language, and I found myself admiring the witch even more. "We're going out for lunch, honestly Ronald," she tutted as she made her way to the fire place. Letting go of my hand to take a pinch of floo powder, I regretted the loss of contact.

She smiled at me coyly before disappearing into the green flames.

It was all I could do not to throw myself after her.


End file.
